Zyanya silently nodded at the guards who handed her her belongings. She slung her sniper rifle over her shoulder and let it come to rest across her back, as it would do her little good in closed quarters. She took her worn bow staff from a guard with reverence, and let its familiarity cleanse her. She could do this. She could keep it together for her crew. If she lost it again like she did when they first landed there was no telling what these people would do. Right now these people were not her enemies. Mirko was. The snake. He was who she should focus all her energy on. She tightened her grip on her staff and followed the others into the halls of a service corridor. Where they were met with the sound of gunshots.
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